


Figured You Out

by tetila (AwakeMySoul)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, M/M, One Night Stands, Public Sex, They always fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwakeMySoul/pseuds/tetila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has no idea what he’s asking for, but he knows he just needs more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Figured You Out

He doesn’t know the man impatiently fumbling with his belt buckle, and for what it’s worth, he doesn’t care. How he ended up here? He can’t really remember. But here he is, in a dark corner of his local club only known for being used by recklessly shameless people that can’t wait for some place more private. 

And it’s the first time for him doing something as risky as this, but oh god the warm long fingers rubbing and twisting his right nipple just feel so good and he can’t stop himself from bucking his hips forward, desperately searching for contact, needing, wanting any kind of pressure or friction on his aching length, but the hand on his belt shifts and tightens its grip on his hip, denying him. Something like an anguished whimper falls from his lips and he finally looks into the face of the dark-haired man holding him against the wall. It’s strangely cold against his shirt-clad back, almost too real, whereas the rest of it feels like a drug induced dream sequence. 

“No.” Only one word and the man’s voice is deep and hoarse with the same arousal he feels running though his system, breath hot on his spit wet lips and he can't keep himself from staring into the greenish-brown eyes watching him, almost analysing him. He thinks he feels the man’s body shudder against his own, but the moment is over in the blink of an eye, and the desperate want in him is back with crashing weight, screaming for more.

How can one innocent dance lead to something like this? The concept doesn’t get into his head and every clear thought he still has leaves when the stranger pulls his hand back from under his shirt, bringing it up to his mouth and casually, lasciviously licks over his own palm. Once, twice, three times. He thinks he never saw anything more obscenely sexual in his life. 

A knee is shoved between his legs, making him spread them a bit and he thinks he should feel mortified at his own wanton behaviour, but it’s too late. His mind blacks out and exclusively focuses on the warm hand wrapping around his cock, slick and with just enough pressure to make him moan out loud. In contrast to their ragged breaths the hand moves impossibly slow up and down his length, but the man seems to know what he is doing, adding delicious little twists at the end of each stroke. 

“Please,” he manages to gasp out between two particularly nice strokes. He has no idea what he’s asking for, but he knows he just needs more. More from the man that is literally holding him in his palm, playing him like he knows him better than everyone he met in his life. He's so close. 

“Please what?” is whispered into his ear. There is an accent he can’t place and it fascinates him. Like the stranger is a puzzle he desperately needs to solve. He can’t concentrate, there are lips that lick a wet trail down his neck, he shivers at the feel of it. And then he is back to just wanting, _needing_. More, more, more.

The man latches his mouth onto the soft swell on the base of his neck. Sucking and nipping with his teeth. He thinks tomorrow there will be a nice purple mark, reminding him of this night, this man. Whatever his name is.   
When the mouth leaves his neck, he almost wants to whine at the simple loss of sensation, but it gets stuck deep in his throat because they shift against the wall and as the hand stoking him also leaves its place on his cock he wants to let out a string of bitter, obscene curses, but all that actually escapes his throat is a desperate sound of protest. Weak and needy. 

He doesn’t have to wait long before the man’s knee is pressed between his legs, and for the first time he feels the other’s arousal, hot and so hard, pressing into his jean-clad thigh.   
“Say it.” Just a whisper against his skin, and he wonders if he should be worried. Worried that not for one moment he hesitates to answer the man’s request. “Fuck me.” 

He can feel the smirk against his ear. That self-righteous bastard. 

There are hands on his shoulder and hip, turning him to face the wall and he doesn’t resist, not even one bit. After all he asked for it, didn’t he? For a moment he sees the various drawings, notes and scribbles dotting the wall. They tell him stories, black on white and sometimes in colour. He feels warm, humid air hitting skin as his pants get pulled down, just far enough his arse is exposed. 

_“Best ride I ever had. S.”_

So he isn’t the first one getting fucked against this wall. The thought is strangely comforting.

He can’t stop the shiver wracking his body as the man runs his hands over the curves of his arse cheeks, squeezing them slightly before he nudged his legs as wide as the jeans around his thighs allow him to. Fingers get pushed into his face and a husky “Open up” is breathed into his ear.

He obeys, opening his mouth to accept two of the man’s fingers, sucking them and getting them wet for their destination. He feels the man moan, more than he actually hears him, a deep humming rumble vibrating against his back and it makes his cock leak and twitch against the empty air, excited to have that kind of power over someone. 

Then the fingers get pulled away and he feels them brush over his hole. 

“I’m going to fuck you and everyone in this club walking by will know,” the man whispers before he places a hand on the small of his back, shoving and pressing him firmly against the wall, making him squirm and then, fucking finally, those fingers slide inside him. 

He shudders, both at the words and at the sensation equally. “I don’t care... oh God... I don’t... nghh…“. Little gasps and grunts are escaping him as he feels a second digit slide all the way inside and then a third, stretching him, fucking him, making him arch back against them because he wants more and more and deeper.

“Please.”

The fingers retire, and there’s a small pause where he hears the crinkle of foil, but then they get replaced by something bigger and much hotter. The man slides in easily, grasping hard at his waist to pull him back into him and away from the wall. They both let out a deep, anguished moan at the new sensation of being joined. 

“Move,” he begs, not wanting to waste any time for adjustment, just needing to feel the delicious burn to remind him that this is as real as it can get.

The man obliges and begins to thrust into him with firm, measured strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back into him. Little white sparks are bursting behind his closed lids when the thrusts of the man find his sweet spot, unable to hold back a loud moan that escapes his throat and his fingers are scraping against the wall for purchase. So good, so fucking good.

His cock is aching for release and he is so close already he can almost taste it. He tightens his inner muscles around the hard length invading him and he hears the other man curse and feels how he jerks uncontrollably against him, faltering in his rhythm. “You little tease,” the man gasps into his shoulder before he starts to thrust even more frantically into him.

It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Oh god,” he cries out, “I’m going to...ngh!”

“Do it,” the man orders and moves his hand to his cock and a thumb over his foreskin, rubbing back and forth, before he palms his erection once, twice and... 

He comes, spilling himself uncontrollably all over the other man’s hand. The orgasm is rippling through him like waves, fluttering, convulsing muscles clenching down tightly and everything blacks out before he sees the bright bursting light again. That moment where everything is clear. This is how it is supposed to happen. Perfect.

The man groans behind him, hissing through his teeth at the tight sensation around his hard-on, but it doesn’t seem to stop him from fucking him through the last spasms of his climax, thrusting wildly without any pattern. He feels his body sag, struggling to keep upright as he tries to match the man’s rhythm by rolling his hips back.

It only took a few more final hard thrusts until he finally feels the man empty himself into the condom.

“Fuck!” Broken and mumbled into his neck. The man is softening slowly but he is riding out the aftershocks as he grinds his crotch against his arse a few times, eliciting small mewling sounds from his throat before he finally slips out.  
They stay like that for some time, him pressed between the cold wall and the hot body, just catching their breaths, then the man breaks away and out from the corner of his eyes he sees him discarding the condom to the ground and buttoning up his pants again.

What is he supposed to do now?  
For a few brief seconds he just stands there facing the wall, feeling a bit lost in the unfamiliar situation.

He can’t finish his trail of thoughts because the man turns him on his shaky legs and helps him pull up his jeans, tucking him back in again and he is sure he blushes, which is ridiculous considering the previous events. 

A moment later the dark-haired man grabs him by the neck and pulls him into a languidly open-mouthed kiss, their tongues drowsily exploring each other. It is broken too soon for his liking when the stranger pulls back, trailing a hand over his cheek. 

“I have to go,” he whispers against his lips, catching his eyes. 

“I know,” he mutters back, breaking eye contact when he feels something unknown move deep down in his chest. The hand on his cheek doesn’t let him, only pulls him back into another short kiss before the man turns and disappears between the crowds. 

He would be lying if he told himself he isn’t disappointed but something about the kiss doesn’t feel like _‘goodbye’_ and he would like to believe it’s only the beginning.

***

The next time he's in the club, he's celebrating his friend’s birthday and something, probably the last four tequila shots, makes him seek out the corner where he had had the best orgasm in his life. 

He knows how cheap that makes him sound. 

There on the wall is a small note in neat, little block letters that reads:

_For the Spanish boy with the millions of freckles.  
Fancy a coffee some time? Call me.  
Dan_

A number is right underneath it and his heart makes a little tumble as he can’t stop the smile from spreading on his face. He gets his mobile phone from his jeans pocket to take a picture with full intent to call first thing in the morning.

The End


End file.
